


Episode 67: Anymore...

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [67]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Clan, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "I will not mourn in front of you." ~Unknown Meso'aA nightmare is something you can wake up from. Just ask Fent and Beon. [TW: Body horror, blood, broken bones]
Series: Clan Meso'a [67]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1261364
Kudos: 1





	Episode 67: Anymore...

Beon lit his shoulder lamp as did Fent, but Maceon didn’t move. Bits of metal and damaged crates reflected the light back at them at odd angles, blinding them one moment before rotating out of range. In the haze of reflections, mechanical bits, and leaking fuel, the strobe-like shadows seemed to shift around a dark figure coming into range ahead of them. Fent gripped his blaster and Beon slid his hand over his holster. Still, Maceon didn’t move. She found herself straining to hear any indication of who or what was coming, despite there being no sound in space. A piece of hull a few yards out caught the beam of Beon’s headlamp and reflected it back at her, blinding her as if allowing their unseen visitor a chance to get closer… and closer they did. Fent nearly shot the newcomer’s helmet off as when the ball of light was snuffed out and a figure in dark teal armor was left in its place. A ragged, blood red plume trailed behind their helmet as they came to rest just outside the cockpit door. The jade animal head and feathered shoulders momentarily backlit as they approached reminded Beon of a predator cloaked in lightning stalking its unsuspecting prey through the underbrush. He was still kneeling on the floor with Aviila against him, meaning he was the one the warrior was focused on. They stepped into the room, the claws on their jade shoes gripping the lip of the door’s base runner as they leveraged themselves and a large shield inside. A large, swirled white eye stared down at Fent from the upper face of the dark brown shield. Dangling from the bottom like a row of severed, rotted fingers, a row of black feathers painted with the same white eyes caught Beon’s attention. The entire thing, from the three lines cutting across the middle of the shield to the swirling of the eyes created a visual vortex both men found themselves getting sucked into. Maceon steeled herself and tapped her helmet com. The Meso’a looked up at her. She switched channels.   
“Ordo?” said a coarse, male voice.   
“Yes.” Maceon replied, “We did not see you approach.”   
He nodded, “That was the plan.”   
“What do you mean?”   
He seemed to think for a moment. “We were summoned here. She,” he pointed at Aviila, “didn’t respond to our check-in.”   
“She’s dead.”   
“I can see.”   
Maceon studied the helmet, then her eyes traveled down to a gold medallion resting against his breastplate.   
“What does that mean,” she pointed.   
He didn’t respond.   
“I didn’t-”  
“You are Cara’s Ordo?”   
Maceon nodded, a little confused. “Yes, we came for Cara and for Jecho.”   
The Meso’a nodded. “Jecho is well?”  
“She’s dead,” Maceon pointed again but past him, “Crushed by the crates.”   
He nodded again. “Then, I apologize, Ordo. You’ve lost much today.”   
“So have you.”   
“Yes.”   
It might have been his tone, but something about him made Maceon uneasy.   
“Did you not know her?” she asked tentatively, gesturing at Aviila.   
“I knew her well.”   
“Then-”   
“Forgive me, Ordo,” he held up a hand, revealing the large bladed gauntlet on his left forearm, “But I will not mourn in front of you.”   
Maceon made to ask another question, but he turned.   
“Come,” he said, “Bring her.”   
Without waiting, he pushed off from the floor and drifted away from them. Stunned, Maceon almost forgot to switch her comm back until Fent put a hand on her arm.   
“What did he say?” He asked, still keeping his blaster at the ready.   
“He wants us to follow him,” she said as though slightly dazed, “and bring her, too.”   
“I’ll bring the ship around,” said Beun, strapping in properly. 

Maceon took the lead followed by Fent then Beon with Aviila. The Meso’a was just ahead, leading them to a warped patch of space that appeared to be empty.   
“Where are we going?” asked Lyse.   
Beun glanced over her shoulder. Lyse’s eyes and nose were still very red, either from crying or from chaffing her face on her glove to stop the crying. Beun chose not to comment.   
“We’re following the others,” she said, turning back to the console, “It seems the Meso’a have been watching us.”   
Lyse nodded, hugged her ams to her chest, and slid down into one of the side chairs.   
“I just didn’t want to keep sitting there with her,” she said after a while.   
Noga’n made a sound and cleared his throat.   
“Why don’t you-” Beun began to offer, but he shook his head, biting down on his lip to keep it shut.   
The closer they got to the warped patch, the more distorted it became until the trio could make out the faint outlines of paneling and sensor arrays. Fent whistled.   
“You seeing this, Beun?” Maceon asked as the ship’s bulk loomed overhead.   
“I don’t even know what I’m looking at,” she admitted, trying to scan the cloaked vessel, “It’s definitely a freighter of some kind.”   
“Something this big is bound to have guards,” said Beon as an access point opened up above them, revealing a ladder.  
Maceon tapped her holstered blaster, “Be at the ready.”   
The Meso’a took hold of the ladder, then looked back at them and gestured upwards before clipping the shield onto his back and using the rungs to hoist himself into the hole. Maceon hovered beside it, allowing Beon to go up first with Aviila. She let Fent go ahead of her, and while she pulled herself up, she placed a small, circular device just outside the opening. It pulsed blue then blended in with the rest of the camouflaged plating. 

The room they found themselves in was packed floor to ceiling with crates, large shipping containers, fuel canisters, sealed weapons caches, and a few empty beast pens. The area was dimly lit by a few partially damaged orange ceiling lights spread throughout the bay. Looking around, Maceon could just make out a series of catwalks above them and doors leading to different areas of the ship. There were no labels that jumped out to her, other than a few companies that specialized in field rations or stock weapons parts. She did see a few crates of things like washers, steel cables, and superglue, but everything else was either unlabeled or in a language she couldn’t read. Even as she followed the others, she kept scanning the catwalks. She knew they were being watched, but by how many she couldn’t tell. Both Beon and Fent were doing the same, the latter trying to figure out how disrespectful it would be to drop Aviila should a fight break out.   
They kept the chatter to a minimum as they passed by the towers of crates and containers. Each time they walked through a dark spot, they found themselves bracing for attack. None came, but from time to time Maceon swore she saw something or someone moving in the shadows.   
“Kad above,” Chellin remarked, watching Maceon’s feed as she scanned what she could of the far end of the room.   
“Are you seeing this?” she asked in a whisper.   
“We are,” Jiik affirmed.   
“How many do you think it takes to maintain a ship like this?”  
Jiik sighed and shook his head, “I couldn’t tell you. At one point I knew that at least four to six Meso’ade would travel together on expeditions, but I’m not sure about goods acquisition.”   
“This is a lot of goods to acquire, ba’vodu.”   
The Togruta chuckled, “Well, they are supplying a whole planet.” 

After a while, the rhythmic clicking of the warrior’s clawed shoes on the durasteel floors finally halted. Beon shifted his hold on Aviila as did Fent; Maceon did one last scan of the catwalks before noticing where they'd stopped. They were now in a wide break between the containers that looked to operate as a loading zone, evidenced by the crane idling above them with a dented crate in its claw. To her left she could see the blast doors and energy field, to her right three hoverlifts awaiting smaller cargo. Light strips lined either side of the area, most of them off or otherwise providing very little light. Fent and Beon gently set Aviila on the floor when they stopped; the Meso’a watched them, hands clasped behind his back under the lip of his shield. Maceon switched channels.   
“Ordo,” he said.   
“I’m here,” Maceon replied.   
He nodded, waiting for Beon and Fent to stand back up. The pair took a respectful step back from Aviila; the Meso’a said nothing, continuing to look at Maceon. She shifted uncomfortably.   
“Upper left,” said Jiik after pinging the comm.   
Maceon switched channels, “I know I saw it.”   
The Meso’a tilted his head. She switched back.   
“Ordo,” he said.   
“Yes?”  
He pointed up. She looked.   
“The crane?”  
He nodded, then held up two fingers and cut the air with them. The crane hummed to life and a few more lights winked on with loud clicks, illuminating the container being lowered to the floor… but the closer it got, the less it looked like the other containers. It was grey-ish in color, or it would be if it wasn’t bathed in orange light, and there were several large dents on one end of it along with a large gash cut by something sharp. Beon took a step forward.   
“That’s…” he began as the crane turned the crate so one end was facing them.   
“The pod!” Fent finished, stepping around Aviila to meet it. Beon was at his heels as the pair raced to meet the crane. It set the escape pod down with a hollow thud that echoed around the bay. Maceon stayed where she was, watching the upper left catwalk out of the corner of her eye.   
Fent took hold of the emergency release lever and yanked as hard as he could. Beon peered over his shoulder into the viewport.   
“I see her!” he said, his heart pounding as he spotted her diminutive figure curled up beneath the console.   
Fent gave another heave and the lever gave with a loud shriek. The door let out a hiss as the cabin depressurized and the singular, overhead light turned on...or at least tried to. It fizzled out just as the hydraulic pushed the door out and opened. Both men ducked out of the way but neither took their eyes off of Cara.   
“Cara?” Beon called, taking a tentative step into the pod. Fent put his hand on the frame to pull himself in behind Beon, but stopped. Beon’s suit depressurized with a hiss and he undid his helmet’s safety latch, allowing the front plate to open.   
“Cara?”   
“I can see three right now,” said Maceon, her thermal filter outlining three figures standing on the left catwalk. “I can’t make out their gear, but their silhouettes match his.”   
Chellin rested his chin on his knuckles, “Beun, are you there?”  
“I am,” she replied, “But I’m not sure how fast I could get to them. Falstra isn’t equipped to take on a ship that large. I can’t tell what they’re packing.”   
“And it wouldn’t be easy to get inside,” added Garrigon, “If the cargo bay is any indication, they probably have the defenses to protect that stockpile.”   
“I don’t like it,” said Lyse, absently chewing the inner corner of her lip, “Should we gear up?”  
Beun shook her head, “And if anyone’s going in, it’s me.”   
“Beun-”   
“You’re all my responsibility,” she said sternly, cutting Lyse off, “Especially those two.”   
Maceon sighed. Glad I came along, she thought. 

“Beon,” said Fent, tapping his pauldron, “Look at this.”   
Beon paused about a foot now from where Cara was sitting beneath the console. Her legs were bent and her arms were pinned to her chest, her head resting face down on her knees and her hair draped on either side. He had his hand out to touch her shoulder when Fent spoke. He turned and looked up to where Fent was pointing.   
“What is it?” he straightened up and walked back to where Fent was staring up at several dried, bloody streaks and handprints.   
They looked at each other, then back at Cara. Beon swallowed hard. Slowly, he moved back towards her and knelt before her. Gently, he extricated one of her hands and held it up in the light just barely pouring into the pod.   
Fent slid to the floor.   
“What is it?” Maceon asked, momentarily taking her eyes off the catwalk.   
“Something wrong?” Chellin asked, seeing the thermal image of Fent’s body seated inside the escape pod.   
Beon’s arm trembled as he held Cara’s limp, bloody hand before him.


End file.
